


i'd be your last love everlasting

by cosimamanning



Series: punky monkey vol 1-365 [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Buckminster the Cat, F/F, Merlin the Australian Shepherd, Past Sarah/Paul & Beth/Paul & Delphine/Cosima, Punky Monkey Cop Aka the Ot3 to End All Ot3s, wedding crashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosimamanning/pseuds/cosimamanning
Summary: Sometimes, all you need to heal is a person (or people).





	i'd be your last love everlasting

**Author's Note:**

> listen to [this cover in particular](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nz7SMVYMT6k) to get in the general mood for this fic also hi special thanks to ray and bri and norma for yelling with me about the ot3 and also dying about the general concept of delphine and paul also i think i'm the only person to use that tag, like,,,,ever

Cosima doesn’t know why she’s here. 

The invitation had arrived at her door, months ago, pristine and beige and almost mocking, as if to say,  _ look at what could have been yours _ . 

She could have declined, she supposes, could have checked the little box that states,  _ I will not be in attendance _ , but there’s a part of her that’s morbidly curious about the whole affair, and she and Delphine hadn’t parted on bad terms. In Delphine’s mind, at least. There was a lingering bitterness, in Cosima’s mind, about the way their relationship had been built, the imbalance of power, the ways that Delphine constantly refused to listen to her. 

And how she’d stayed, like some love-struck fool, through it all, and let herself be destroyed. 

It’s fitting, that Delphine’s the one who’s moving on with her life, moving forward, while Cosima is still stuck, like a broken record on repeat, listening to the same morose song with no end goal in sight, wandering, a host without its parasite. 

She’s being a bit dramatic, she knows, but she’s allowed to be dramatic about her exes, especially considering Delphine threatened to literally  _ kill  _ one of her flings when they were on a break once, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever forgive her for that, but Cosima still doesn’t understand fully why she’s here. 

Partly out of her own morbid curiosity, she figures, the desire to see if Delphine’s really  _ happy _ , here with the bland, Ken-doll man that stares back at Cosima from the wedding invitation that she keeps clutched in her purse as proof that, yes, she’s meant to be here. She’s a scientist, after all, it’s in her nature to want to study things, to observe, to compare behavioral patterns of subjects in different surroundings. 

A part of her wonders if Delphine is the way she was with her with everyone she’s with, so controlling, so micromanaging, or maybe there was just something about Cosima that allows her to be manipulated, preyed upon. 

It’s a disgustingly cute affair, cool spring air engulfing Cosima’s senses, and she smiles politely as she recognizes Delphine’s family, grimaces when her parents approach her, making small talk before the ceremony, because she somehow failed to think this part through. Delphine’s father, voice heavily accented, greets her warmly, while her mother appraises her with beady eyes that never once have looked at her in approval, and Cosima fights back grimaces as they speak to her as though nothing’s happened, as though she’s still dear to them. 

_ This could have been you _ , Delphine’s father’s voice seems to hold the implication, and Cosima shudders at the very thought, because she can’t imagine herself married to Delphine, certainly not now. Maybe, once, when she’d deluded herself into thinking she was in love, that she was happy, but  _ certainly  _ not now. 

_ Thank god it isn’t _ , Delphine’s mother’s eyes say, and, for once, Cosima agrees with her. 

Eager to avoid further encounters, Cosima makes her way to her seat, on the bride’s side of the field, only genuinely smiling when she spots some of Delphine’s little cousins, who greet her warmly in rapid-fire french that she barely keeps up with, her name clumsy on their tongues. 

The general consensus of the children is that she’s missed, and that Delphine’s soon to be husband, Paul, is nowhere near as fun as she is. Their  _ Mamie  _ shoots them stern looks at this while Cosima smiles smugly despite herself, because of  _ course  _ she’s more fun. 

Briefly, she contemplates the pros and cons of roping the small gaggle of children into a brief science experiment before the ceremony begins, but the glare Delphine’s mother levels her stops all thoughts in her tracks, and instead she just lets the children talk at her in their stilted, heavily accented english. 

“I won first place at my science fair!” Gabrielle, the oldest, tells her excitedly, and for the briefest of moments, Cosima finds herself missing this, missing the sense of  _ family _ , as her chest floods with affection towards the little girl. She was six, the last time Cosima saw her, in France, bright blue eyes twinkling with the bright curiosity only children and scientists were capable of producing, and she’s nine now, and so very proud of herself. 

“Tell me about it,” Cosima urges, and Gabrielle rushes to do so, her cousins pitching in, equally as enthused for her achievements, supplementing words in french when they can’t quite find them in english, gesticulating widely with their hands the way they’ve seen Cosima do―and she smiles, to think that she’s left such an imprint on them, for only seeing them so few times, so long ago―and for a moment she forgets that she’s attending the wedding of a girl she used to love, and lets herself soak in the company of these children, so filled with life and curiosity, and lets herself reflect their childish glow. 

Her bubble is, unfortunately, popped, as the piano beging to play, and the crowd settles, parents corralling children into their seats. Cosima finds herself sandwiched between Delphine’s cousin Quentin, a fifteen year old who spends too much time trying to peek down Cosima’s dress then watching the wedding―and really, Cosima isn’t drunk enough to deal with pubescent teenage boys gawking at her, high school was enough of that to last a lifetime―and their mutual friend from work, Scott, who is much more agreeable, and  _ doesn’t  _ spend the entire ceremony trying to ogle her. 

The officiant stands at the altar, and then comes the groom and his best man, and there are cheers from the other side of the field, and Cosima stifles a laugh at the pinched look on Delphine’s mother’s face. 

“They’re certainly enthusiastic,” she mutters under her breath to Scott, and he smiles to her as the groom passes him, decked out in military regalia, his best man likewise decorated. 

“Never thought Delphine’d marry a military man,” he comments, and there’s the unspoken,  _ thought she’d marry you _ , but Cosima’s glad he doesn’t, because she loves Scott dearly, loves him almost like the brother she never had, but she’s not exactly eager to reveal the gory details of her breakup with Delphine with him, especially considering Delphine is their superior. 

Cosima takes a moment to study Paul, as he stands at the altar. 

He’s her replacement, she supposes. 

She isn’t upset about it, not in any sense of the way. She isn’t really  _ happy  _ about it either, because there are plenty of unresolved issues she has with Delphine, things she wishes she could have said three years ago but never had the courage to. She’s in a state of emotional limbo about him, eyes observing him clinically, as she would any experiment. 

His jaw is classically chiseled, sporting a five o’clock shadow, and he stands perfectly postured, likely as a result of his military training. His resting face is impassive, but there’s a slight upward quirk to his lips, a slight gleam to his eyes, and she supposes that, despite it all, he’s  _ happy  _ with Delphine. Genuinely happy. 

It’s a staggering thought.

Then come the bridesmaids and the ushers, most of them friends of Delphine’s that Cosima remembers from their time dating. Some of them notice her and wave, others just walk past. It’s weird, seeing all of this, and thinking that it could have been her life, in another version, another universe. 

If it was Cosima’s wedding, nobody would be wearing shoes. 

Every person that passes her is, very clearly, and very tragically, wearing shoes. 

The ring bearer comes next, a little boy she assumes comes from the groom’s side of the family, from the way he looks to the side for encouragement, and a few rowdy crowd members usher him on. Paul smiles at him when he reaches the stand, and ruffles his blond hair fondly, and the boy smiles up at him radiantly. 

Then come the flower girls, all Delphine’s cousins, and one flower boy, because the triplets, Cosima remembers, are never separated, not when it comes to anything. Fleur and Colleen and Jacques scatter petals perfectly, and Cosima coos at them as they pass. Scott shoots her a  _ look  _ from the side of his eye, and Cosima scotts. 

“What?” she defends. “They’re adorable, admit it.”

She’s seen Scott make baby noises at his cat, so he can’t say anything, and he just shrugs and turns his eyes back to the procession. 

Paul’s eyes widen the moment he catches sight of Delphine, and Cosima turns in her chair to see her. 

She looks radiant. 

Of course she does, Cosima expects nothing else of her. Delphine has always been nothing but particular when it comes to perfecting her physical aesthetics, and her wedding day would be no different. She floats down the aisle, an image draped in white, and, for a brief second, makes eye contact with Cosima.

Cosima searches her eyes for anything, an apology, for signs of regret, but finds nothing more than perhaps latent fondness, and she smiles half-heartedly before Delphine turns, eyes fixated towards Paul, whose expression has transformed, for once, into a full-blown smile. 

They’re happy together. 

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

Scott squeezes her hand softly, as though noticing her discomfort, and though she knows he can’t possibly understand the full depths of her tumultuous emotions, she accepts the silent offer of comfort anyways, leaning into his side as she watches the last echoes of her past, of a future she could have had, fade away with the strong intonation of a few vows. 

Cosima promises herself that she won’t stay for the reception, but Gabrielle tugs at her arm, insisting, tells her that she has pictures of her project stowed away on her  _ maman’s  _ phone, and Cosima has a weakness for children.

“They have an open bar,” Scott tempts, and, combining the promise of free alcohol with Gabrielle’s bright, pleading eyes, she can’t say no. 

The children swarm her as Cosima sips on a drink that’s dangerously sugary and no doubt has an alcohol content much too high for this early in the reception, but Delphine and Paul are twirling away on the dance floor and she can’t bring herself to care.

“I don’t like him very much,” Gabrielle whispers to her, conspiringly, once the other children have scattered, off to their parents, off to the dance floor, little feet carrying them in between dancing adults, peeling laughter ringing through the air, as Cosima outlines the basics of sacred geometry to her. 

“You don’t?” she asks, and Gabrielle shakes her head, frowning as though she’s said something wrong. “How come?”

“He’s very serious,” she tells Cosima, “and he is not a scientist, like you or  _ tatie _ .” She crinkles her nose, as though not being a scientist is a capital offense, and Cosima, again, swells with affection for her, and wishes that she could see her more often.

Sometimes, she thinks she misses Gabrielle more than she will ever miss Delphine. 

“He doesn’t do science experiments with you, then?”

“ _ Non _ ,” Gabrielle shakes her head, again looking as though she’s smelled something distasteful, “he did take Quentin to a shooting range, once.” Cosima laughs, brightly, and Gabrielle smiles at her. 

“I can’t imagine your  _ mamie  _ was too happy about that.” Gabrielle smiles, giggling. 

“ _ Tatie  _ wasn’t either, I think Paul was in a bit of trouble after that.”

Gabrielle pulls her to the dance floor for a little while, the two of them letting their feet twist in whichever way the music flows, laughing together, and Cosima pointedly ignores the disapproving looks that Delphine’s mother shoots her way. Cosima does take care to keep them from the path of Delphine, though, who is spinning little Jacques in her arms, because she doesn’t know how an interaction between the two of them will go, and frankly, doesn’t want to. 

She’s gone three years without speaking to her, she can last a few more. 

After Gabrielle’s feet have tired, Cosima finds herself again at the open bar, sitting with Scott, and he regales her with stories of his gaming group, and their most recent round of Agricola, and how Hell Wizard got so angry he flipped the game table. 

Cosima thinks, privately, that she doesn’t expect someone who calls themselves  _ Hell Wizard  _ to have the upper body strength to flip a game table, but nods along with Scott’s story, smiling at the funny parts, because for all the nerdy aspects―and really, she shouldn’t judge, because she totally  _ dominates  _ at the game―it is an interesting story.

After a while, though, Scott gets stolen away by a French cousin and the best man, who Cosima learns is named Rudy, and she’s left alone with her alcohol and her introspective thoughts. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots two people who look about as miserable as she feels. 

They’re at a table not too far away from her, and she remembers them vaguely sneaking in towards the end of the vows, sitting at the back of the groom’s section, camping out as close to the open bar as they can without being within hearing distance of the tender. 

One has at least made an attempt to look like she’s dressed for a wedding, wearing a blue dress that compliments her quite well, her hair pulled up in a neat bun, but the other looks like she’s rolled right out of a punk rock concert, skinny jeans, leather jacket, studded boots, wild hair and all. 

Cosima can’t deny the fact that she’s insanely attractive. 

Slowly, she inches her way towards them, grabbing another drink from the bar, trying to overhear their conversation. 

“Look at him,” the woman in the blue dress scoffs, sipping deeply from her drink, which the other woman swaps for a glass of water when she’s not looking, “just dancing. What an asshole.” The other woman nods sagely. 

“Fuck ‘im.”  _ Fuck _ , she’s  _ British _ . 

Cosima takes another sip from her drink, calming herself. Arguably, she as a  _ thing  _ for girls with accents, if Delphine is any standard to go by, and if she’d thought the woman sitting at the table in front of her was attractive before, the attraction is amplified tenfold now. 

Smoldering brown eyes make contact with Cosima’s, and she sighs deeply, knowing she’s been caught, but to her surprise, they beckon her over. 

“You seem to be exuding a general aura of misery,” the british woman comments, and Cosima offers her a half-grin. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“Takes one to know one.” She takes a gulp of her own drink, which Cosima notes is bourbon, before frowning. “Sarah.” She nods at the other woman, tucked into her side. “Beth.”

“I’m Cosima,” she introduces, “Delphine’s ex.”

“Is she an asshole?” Sarah asks, at the same time Beth pitches in. “Paul’s an ass.” Cosima thinks of Gabrielle’s pinched expression and laughs. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Beth agrees, “we would know, we dated him.”

“At the same time?” Cosima asks, voice raising in surprise. She’s a scientist  _ and  _ a lesbian, so she knows about sexuality as a spectrum, and of course polyamory is something she’s heard about, but she’s never seen it explored in practice outside of for perpetuating the fantasies of gross males on the internet.

“Not exactly,” Sarah grimaces, staring mournfully at her empty glass of bourbon. 

“I was dating him for two years,” Beth explains, “and he was cheating on me with Sarah.”

“Needless to say we found out, and both dumped his sorry ass,” Sarah finishes, and Beth nods in confirmation, “and now we’re here.”

“...at his wedding?” Cosima's thought it was a little weird when she got an invitation, knew it was likely at the insistence of Delphine’s father, who had loved her from the moment he met her, but  _ this? _ This is a little much to warrant an invitation, even if it had been at the insistence of a parent. 

“We’re crashing,” Beth whispers, lowly, and Sarah rolls her eyes fondly as Beth makes a grab for another drink. 

“I think that’s enough for you, babes,” Sarah says softly, gently prying the drink from Beth’s hands and instead replacing it with water, “drink this.” Beth grumbles, but drinks the water anyways, and Cosima smiles at the interaction despite herself, because Sarah’s actions are so loving, and Beth is pliant to her whim, a relationship built on mutual trust, something that Cosima is foreign to, and they look so  _ happy  _ despite the fact that they’re in attendance of a wedding of someone they very clearly hate. 

There’s a small part of her that yearns for what they have, for something so healthy, so happy, so earnest. 

“So,” Sarah prompts, once she’s ensured that Beth is sipping steadily at her water, “tell me a little bit about Delphine, yeah? How’d that relationship go.” Cosima’s never told anyone about what happened between her and Delphine, because parts of her feel like she’s making it seem worse than it actually was, like people won’t understand, parts of her feel like maybe it was  _ her  _ fault. 

Something in Sarah’s eyes makes Cosima want to tell her, though, so she does. 

They sit there, at the table, exchanging stories about the bride and groom that would make the majority of the other guests in attendance scowl at them, and the more Cosima talks the lighter she feels, as Sarah and Beth listen attentively, frowning along with her words. 

“She sounds like a real piece of shite,” Sarah comments, once Cosima concludes her recounting of what had been their relationship. 

“She didn’t deserve you,” Beth agrees, and then, after a moment, shoots a distasteful look reminiscent of Gabrielle’s in the direction of Delphine and Paul, “they deserve each other.”

“Arseholes,” Sarah agrees, sagely, and Cosima grins. 

“I’ll drink to that.” Sarah and Beth raise their glasses of water, Cosima the only one still drinking at this point, and Sarah disappears for a moment only to reappear with cake and appetizers, little french dishes that Cosima remembers fondly from her time with Delphine―and now that she thinks about it, most of the things she remembers fondly from her time with Delphine are all very pointedly  _ not  _ Delphine.

Beth happily accepts the cake, vanilla and lemon, and Sarah stares at her, pointedly. 

“What?” Cosima asks. 

“Best not to drink on an empty stomach, if you’re trying to forget,” she shrugs, “dealt with too many two day hangovers to not learn.” She pushes a plate of food forward and Cosima smiles softly, allowing herself to be taken care of. 

It’s a foreign feeling, but it’s addictive, and Cosima revels in it. 

She leaves the reception a little while later with two new numbers on her phone, and a smile on her face, the warmth of Gabrielle’s kisses on both of her cheeks, and she finds herself glad that she went.

* * *

 

Sarah grumbles, as she always does, at the movement in the bed, too soon,  _ much  _ too soon. She can feel Beth trying to discreetly disentangle their limbs and she whines, leaning into her, pulling her closer.

“No.”

“Sarah,” Beth laughs, and it’s beautiful, but it’s also too  _ early _ , “I have to go and run before work.”

“No y’dun,” Sarah slurs, nestling herself further into Beth’s warmth, relishing in the press of her skin against Beth’s, cuddling up to her. “Stay.” She’s whining at this point, but it’s so early she doesn’t really care, and Beth sighs, letting herself be molded. 

“Only for five more minutes,” Beth instructs, and Sarah just smiles into Beth’s shoulder, eyes still shut when Beth presses a soft kiss to her forehead, “I swear, you’re worse than a koala.”

“Love you,” Sarah murmurs sleepily, and as she nods off, she hears Beth say it back, voice soaked in fondness. 

“I love you too, dipshit.”

When she wakes up next, Beth is gone, and the alarm clock on the bedside table reads nine o’clock, and Sarah sighs, pulling herself up from the bed. 

There’s coffee leftover from Beth, and tea waiting for her the way she likes it, a note on the fridge in Beth’s familiar, loopy scrawl, and Sarah smiles as she sips at her mug. Merlin dozes on his bed, tired from his run with Beth, but his head pops up loyally when Sarah walks past, wagging his tail, and she scratches the spot just behind his ears that he loves so much. 

Sarah gets ready for her own day, puts on Merlin’s harness, and sets out. 

Beth spends her days out on the streets, risking her life to keep people safe, oftentimes from people Sarah used to keep herself in close company with, and Sarah loves her for it. Sarah does what she can, trying to make amends for the sins of her past, and this helps. 

The group homes, from what she remembers, were always the worst. 

The chaos, the sense of impermanence, always over-crowded, nothing being truly  _ yours _ , and knowing that, there, you weren’t wanted. At least, in a home, you could pretend, for a moment, that you  _ belonged _ , but in a group home, there was no way to pretend. She’d often felt like an animal put on display, waiting for the right person to walk through and pick her up, take her home and call her theirs. 

This home, in particular, is one for the children like Sarah, the troubled ones, the ones who have trouble  _ sticking _ . Psychologists give them diagnoses and shove them here to rot, and so Sarah comes to them, with Merlin, tail wagging, because the world might have given up on them, but she’s here to show them that there’s still  _ hope _ . 

They flood Merlin immediately, and the matron, a tired looking old woman named Mary, smiles and offers her water, which Sarah politely declines, instead choosing to sit with the children. The oldest is fourteen, the youngest no more than six, and she sees herself in all of them, and it makes her heart ache. 

She wishes so deeply that each of them could have a Siobhan, a Felix, someone to show them that it gets better, but for now she tries to make it a little better, and they smile at her, bright and genuine, and in the moment, it’s enough. 

Tony’s parents kicked him out just because of who he is, and Dolev lost his parents because of their names in a nation filled with hate, and Lizette has never known her parents at all. The others are much the same, variations of abandoned or lost or broken, and reflected in all of their eyes Sarah sees herself staring back, small and scared and angry and so very alone. 

“I crashed a wedding this weekend,” she tells them, and they all turn to her eagerly to listen, arms still petting Merlin, who soaks in the attention as though he’s never received it in his entire life, and Mary makes a disapproving noise from where she stands. 

“Whose?” Dolev demands. 

“Bet it was her ex,” Tony snickers, and Sarah winks at him, and he grins to himself, “knew it.”

She tells them about sneaking in, leaving out most of the details about the alcohol and how she and Beth stole some of the gifts, because Beth is an officer of the law and  _ above  _ such things, and Mary already thinks she’s a bad influence and Sarah’s not about to let her restrict her access to these kids. 

She mentions meeting Cosima, though. 

“Is she pretty?” Lizette asks, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

“She already has a girlfriend, stupid.” 

She brought Beth with her, once, and the kids had been rightfully skittish, because Beth is a  _ cop _ ―a detective―and they, despite their young age, haven’t exactly made nice with the law. Merlin loves her, though, and they love Merlin, so it didn’t take them very long to warm up to her. Despite Tony’s comment, though, Sarah smiles. 

“Yes, Lizette, she’s very pretty.” Lizette smiles and sticks her tongue out at Tony, and before the two of them can start fighting, Sarah intervenes and asks them about their different interests; Tony and his skateboarding, Dolev’s photography, Lizette’s dancing, and Bella’s drawing, and Danny’s growing collection of state quarters. 

They talk to her, talk to Merlin, tail wagging happily, and Sarah thinks about Cosima as she listens. There’s a bit of Cosima that’s reminded her of herself, too, reminders her of the children in front of her. 

Sarah has a habit of attracting people to her that are lost, searching for something, a little broken inside. She tries to fix people in an effort to fix herself, and in the process somehow mutual healing is achieved. She feels it here, in the calm with the children and Merlin and the way that these kids that the world labels as castaways open up to her and trust her, in the way that she and Beth love one another. 

She thinks there’s a chance for Cosima to heal, with them, too. 

By the time she leaves, Tony scratching Merlin’s ears one last time and Lizette demonstrating one shaky pirouette, she feels strangely optimistic, and Merlin’s tail wags happily alongside her as they make the walk back to her and Beth’s shared home. 

She tells Beth about it, later, over dinner, and Beth smiles at her, fondly, expression filled with love. 

“You’re wonderful,” she tells her, and Sarah grins. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Bring her by more often and we’ll see.”

She and Cosima become fast friends, of that Sarah had no doubt of. From their initial meeting at the wedding, Sarah knew that the other girl had an infectious sort of personality, and an easygoing sense of humor. She’s eager to follow Sarah around, always talking at miles a minute about scientific concepts that Sarah can’t begin to wrap her mind around but likes listening to anyways, arms moving wildly to emphasize her point. 

Beth accompanies them, too, on the days that she doesn’t have work, her hand intertwined with Sarah’s own, and Sarah watches to see how Cosima reacts to this. Sometimes, Beth takes them both by surprise, and lopes her arm around Cosima’s shoulders, rolling her eyes as the scientist falters at the action, while she and Sarah share grins. 

After a couple of months of this, Sarah brings her to the kids, because they’re arguably the biggest part of her life, outside of Beth and Siobhan and Felix, and excellent judges of character. Tony can call a bluff in a game of poker in a second, and Lizette can stare down a grown man, and she’s pretty sure Dolev’s sweet-faced his way out of juvie at least three times now. 

“Hi,” Cosima greets, smiling, while they’re all busy petting Merlin, who is happy as always to be the center of attention, “I’m Cosima.” This catches Lizette’s attention, and her head snaps up immediately, little eyes narrowing, appraising Cosima, and Sarah’s impressed when she doesn’t flinch. 

“You’re right,” Lizette says, after a moment, nodding at Sarah, “she is very pretty.” Cosima flushes bright red, and Dolev feigns gagging while Tony makes fake kissing noises and Sarah laughs, and Merlin just wags his tail, happy to be involved. 

She goes through a science experiment with them, a simple little thing, but they’re all entranced, and Sarah’s content just to watch her, smiling, because Cosima really is beautiful, and Lizette’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and Tony and Dolev are competing to see who can finish the experiment the fastest, and it’s wonderful. 

“Was this a test?” Cosima asks, afterwards. 

“If it was,” Sarah deftly avoids the question, “you definitely would have passed.” 

They walk away from the group home hand-in-hand, and Sarah kisses Cosima outside of the home she shares with Beth, away from where Mary’s disapproving eyes can see, and Cosima melts into the action, letting herself be held. 

Beth opens the door and finds them like that and laughs when Cosima squeaks. 

“Took you long enough, Sarah,” she rolls her eyes fondly and kisses Sarah on the forehead when she walks in, and offers Cosima a warm smile, “she’s an idiot, really, you learn to get used to it.”

Sarah’s right about one thing, they heal together. 

Cosima stays up late at odd hours working on papers and studying for classes, and Beth often can’t sleep, plagued by the demons of her work. She brews them both coffee as they curl up on the plush couch in their living room, and when they inevitably crash, Sarah drapes a blanket over the two of them, or on the nights where she feels particularly chivalrous, takes the time to carry them both to bed. 

Sarah sometimes still feels the loneliness she was overwhelmed with as a child creeping up on her, and on the days where she feels helpless, she has two people to remind her that she is loved, surrounding her in their bed, Merlin at the foot, wagging his tail happily, and Buckminster―Cosima’s cat, the newest addition to the growing home―somewhere near their heads, purring reassuringly. 

Some days Beth comes home with the ghosts of cases she’s failed to solve, of people she’s failed to save, and guilt consumes her. There are days where she doesn’t feel good enough, where the weight of her dead father’s legacy is too much for her to bear, and she collapses. On these days, Sarah and Cosima are there to catch her, with coffee and blankets and so much love, soft and gentle and giving and everything that Beth needs. 

With Delphine, Cosima’s voice was never really heard. With Sarah and Beth, she knows her voice is valued. On days where she feels small, they raise her up, and when she needs support, they’re there, silent crutches for her to lean on, supporting and loving and  _ right _ . 

Together, they heal, and they love, and it’s more than enough.  

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! if you wanna prompt me, my tumblr is [danaryas](http://danaryas.tumblr.com/), and you can check out my other works on my second ao3 [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_kom_trashkru/works)
> 
> also, #freegabrielle2k17 i think she's my new favorite


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